Gemotions

A restless night was spent turning in the sheets. Thomas couldn’t stop replaying the image from his sister’s living room. A drawing by his nephew, a strange, towering creature with too many fingers and a vacant stare. A near-perfect match for the shadow that used to sit at the foot of his childhood bed. He remembered the feeling of being watched, the prickling sensation on his skin, the feeling that something was always lurking just beyond the edge of his vision. He tried to tell himself it was just a coincidence, a child’s overactive imagination.

He got out of bed, unable to bear the confines of the room, and began to pace. The floorboards creaked under his weight, each sound echoing in the silent house. It was a cold night, and a draft seemed to seep through the closed window. He wanted to scream.

The next morning, his sister sent a text. “Mark made another drawing of his friend. He calls him… ‘Shadow Jack’”. Thomas felt a wave of nausea wash over him.